Apocalypse Rorschach
2020-04-04, 1:11 a.m.

Inkblots in an apocalypse. Just 2 yards from my barbiturates and 2 yards from the finish line of HW 2 part 1. I've been spending a week on it. And to think after I finish it there is still another part of it I have to rewatch the lecture to understand. So is the life of a doctoral student. I'm mad at myself for not speeding up my work. But I had to stop taking my immune modulating meds so I have a chance in this apocalypse, causing more pain. And my mom, aunt, uncle, and grandfather have the illness. My grandfather is the man I got my machiavellianism from and I'm not ready to write this eulogy. I'm the eulogy writer of the family. He has had a few close calls. I'm hoping this is another way in which he defies death.

I'm still mad at myself for things I cannot control. Like the white supremacists at my internship making shit hard for me because I'm not supposed to be in the building as a doctoral student, especially not with this skin color. I am never allowed to forget it but I am also never allowed to mention it. Don't worry. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm just exhausted at a soul level. Deep breathing so I don't spit hot fire in my rage, end up hurting everyone's feelings and getting put on academic probation again. Oh yes. The school put me on academic probation. For 2 years. And wanted to leave me there because of the racists at my internship spreading unfounded accusations. They took me off probation with just half a sentence email. Because they didn't want to hear my mouth. Pray for me. I always overcome this but like I said. I am exhausted. At a soul level.